Three Stages of Grief
by little red cardigan
Summary: When they took Clarisse, they had beat her, tying her to the edge of a table, nailing her hands to it with a hammer. When they took Thalia, they had hung her upside down and sliced her flesh with every knife imaginable.
1. Waiting

**Disclaimer:** I don't own PJO or anything else.

**Rated:** **M**- for swearing, violence, rape, and some graphic images.

**A/N:** This is a three-part one shot, and it takes place during the _second_ war between the Roman and Greek demigods, which is about a year after _The Last Olympian_. Silena Beauregard never died. Hope you enjoy!

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><p><strong>Waiting<strong>

Something wet drips from her back and Thalia immediately assumes that it's just pure perspiration. Her skin feels scorching hot, but then she realizes that the weather around her is chilly with nighttime air. More of that wet moisture drops down onto the ground below her. When she finally looks down, she sees that it's not the regular, clear color of what sweat should look like, but rather a darker color.

Blood. _Her_ blood.

It was a huge sign of weakness, but Thalia couldn't help but physically wince as another sharp pain etched along her back, the retraction of a single whip flying past her ears before disappearing behind her. It was a numbing sort of pain, since the guy's been at it for hours now—or that's what she thinks— and her mind's beginning to dull. She clenched and unclenched the bound hands that held her to the wooden post. Colors were beginning to swirl around the edges of her eyes, and she shook herself from completely succumbing to darkness.

"Stop it! Stop!" That was Annabeth's voice. In all her life, and her friendship with Athena's daughter, Thalia had never heard the blonde girl sound like that before. She sounded unsure. Scared. "You're killing her!"

There was a loud rustling movement. "You're all cowards! Tying her to the post like that because you're all afraid of actually fighting her yourselves—you should be ashamed to call yourself Romans! Cowards, all of you!" This was from Clarisse.

Out of curiosity, even in her delusional state, Thalia turned her head to the side. Annabeth, who was always brave and calm in any given situation, was crying. Tears streamed down her gray eyes as she struggled against her holders. To the side of her, at least five Romans had to hold Clarisse down. She was screaming at them angrily, untamable and unrestricted like a detrimental dragon.

Fatigue was pulling a heavy strain on her body. She was already on her knees, and it wasn't as though she could sag down any further because of her tied hands. When the last whip was given to her, an effect that had her tight muscles wielding, she let out a small breath. Before she could fall into unconsciousness right there, the ropes were loosened from her wrists and she was firmly hoisted up. She mentally cursed herself at the tremendous ache in her back, and the way her knees started to shake.

The Romans marched the three girls back to their headquarters, which was nothing more than an empty prison cell containing cold air and dirt. Simply lovely.

They pushed in Thalia first, taking in satisfaction as she stumbled in and fell right on her front, since they _loved_ to prey on the injured first, especially if she was a daughter of Zeus. Annabeth came in next, falling to her knees and instantly crawled over to the other fallen girl, uncaring if the Romans were watching or not. It was in Clarisse's nature to give the Romans a sprout of colorful words, earning her a hard punch to the cheek, before they locked her behind the bars.

Clarisse rubbed her right cheek, but that was the least of her problems. She turned around, seeing Annabeth gently removing the back of Thalia's torn and ragged shirt.

"Ow! Goddammit, that _hurts_, Annabeth!" Thalia hissed through her teeth.

"Sorry, sorry!" Annabeth replies shakily, more mindful of the girl's wounds. She hastily wiped her tears away, thinking herself stupid to be crying at a time like this. There was just so much blood on Thalia's back that Annabeth didn't know where the blood was even coming from.

Annabeth hurriedly walked over to corner wall. She removed one of the broken bricks, where they had a first-aid kit hidden from view. When the Romans had ransacked their things, Clarisse had kept the kit very well hidden before they were captured and thrown in the cell those few months ago.

"I shouldn't have said anything," Thalia muttered. The cold air was like another invisible whip to her back. She flinched at the cold contact.

If she hadn't opened her mouth to sheer, impulsive stupidity, the three of them would have been about their day like they had been for these past couple of months. When the guards taunted them, she should have ignored it and kept her mouth shut. But Thalia Grace was too proud, and that was her major flaw. She had spat words right back at the Romans, and the next thing you know, she was whipped, and Annabeth and Clarisse had been forced to watch.

"Yeah, you shouldn't have," Clarisse agreed wholeheartedly. "Cause then I definitely would have said something to those sons of bitches and our positions would be switched."

It was the entirely wrong moment to do so, but Thalia cracked a grin. Wet drops sprinkled along her back, and Thalia bit her lip at the small pain that erupted. "Annabeth, would you stop crying?Your tears are burning my back."

"I'm sorry," Annabeth repeated, not really being able to stop. "It's just—they kept g-going on and on, and they w-wouldn't stop…"

"I know. I was there, remember?" Thalia wryly replied.

Annabeth slumped back against the ground. Her body was shaking and she couldn't will it to stop. She would never, _ever_ get the image out of her head. To her, Thalia had always been the one person who could withstand anything. She was one of her closest friends, and Annabeth looked up to the girl. But seeing her, strapped to the pole in her vulnerability, repeated whips slamming mercilessly down on Thalia's back, Annabeth couldn't take it.

She had tried to look away from the scene, but she couldn't. It was one of those moments where you know something bad is going to happen: like an incoming car speeding down the street, about to hit a walking passerby. You know there's going to be a large accident, but you can't will yourself to look away. It was like that. So Annabeth tried to close her eyes, but when the Roman demigod that was holding her noticed, he forced her eyes open.

The image would never be erased. It would be a memory, a recurring nightmare…

Clarisse noticed the blonde girl's state. She gently pried her fingers away from Thalia's back. "Annabeth, you really should get some rest," she said with a tenderness that was unknown to all except for the two girls she was sharing a cell with.

"No, I could—"

"Get some rest," Clarisse ordered in that same gentleness. She removed the kit from Annabeth's hands, and set out to work on Thalia's back herself.

Thalia shifted her head, staring right at Annabeth. "You look tired."

"Speak for yourself," Annabeth retorted back, unable to fight back a grin.

"Hey, at least it got you to smile again," Thalia replied lightly. "The weeping Annabeth was kinda freaking me out."

Annabeth rolled her eyes, wiping the last of the wetness that pooled there. She watched quietly as Clarisse cleaned Thalia's back with a small towel from the kit. After wiping away most of the blood, Annabeth could vaguely see in the light provided by the moon from outside, that there were numerous lacerations decorated along her pale back, long and fresh. Thalia jumped when Clarisse rubbed something on her back.

"Stop moving," Clarisse commanded.

"It _burns_!"

"You brought this on yourself, you know."

Thalia turned her head as much as she could to glare at Clarisse. "Just a moment ago, you said that if I hadn't done anything, then you certainly would have."

"I know I said that," Clarisse reaffirmed. "But at least I could take the whipping without whining."

"I'm not whining."

"Really?" That only prodded Clarisse into pressing more of that stuff onto Thalia's back, causing the blue-eyed girl to hiss in protest. "Oh, and just to let you know, I'm only pouring water onto your back." Thalia started grumbling, and while Clarisse washed her back, she frowned. "I wish we could fight back."

"You know we can't," Annabeth responded, her eyes softening.

Clarisse fisted her hands, careful of Thalia's back. "You've seen their fighting tactics. We're much better than them. If they didn't have _her_, we would have killed every single one of them by now."

Annabeth shook her head. "They could kill her at any moment."

Thalia stared hard at the ground, her teeth grinding together. Because of the stupid thing she had done, _she_ must have been paying for it now. Gods, they were probably torturing her! Thalia could think of the many ways they could hurt her.

Their party of three used to be a party of four. All of them were assigned to one of the most dangerous jobs. They were to be spies on enemy territory: the Roman Camp Half-Blood. They were to act like Roman demigods, passing along any information to the other side of the war. The girls knew what they were getting into and they had accepted the job. They were chosen because they knew they could handle it. It was the second war that had occurred between the Greek demigods and the Roman demigods in history.

Besides the three of them, Silena Beauregard had spied alongside with them.

Unfortunately, they were found out, and they were captured. They were taken to another sort of encampment and thrown in the cell they were currently living in, and just for the fun of it all, they had taken Silena as their own personal hostage. They had taken her to make sure that the other three wouldn't try anything. Because Silena couldn't defend herself as well as the other girls, she was the easiest target.

They had been captured in June.

It was now December.

The whipping was pretty much nothing compared to what they've already endured. If anything, Thalia would think of it as another couple of scars to be added to her body.

Just because they were prisoners, didn't mean that they would sit on their butts in the cell all day. There were many prisoners at the camp, but not all of them were Greek. Some were even Romans themselves. It was barbaric, considering the Romans enslaved their own kind.

During the day, they were separated off to work. Thalia worked down in the mines, chipping off rocks in hopes of finding jewels, that being the reason why her hands were seldom scratched and bloody. Clarisse worked where she was assembling weapons together, forced to create weapons for the wrong side.

Annabeth had the easiest job: just to clean the weapons with a rag. She wondered why that was. Was it because Thalia and Clarisse kept mouthing off the guards almost every other day? Even though they were subjected to pain every day, Thalia and Clarisse were tortured a bit more than Annabeth was. And what was the worst part was the fact that they couldn't fight back.

They would have killed these Romans so _damn_ easily.

But because they had Silena, they did nothing.

Clarisse finished bandaging Thalia's back, before carefully placing back the prisoner shirts they were supposed to wear. She quickly put the kit away and out of sight.

The cell bars had slammed open again, all three girls reacting to it. Thalia straightened up to a sitting position, and Clarisse whirled around to see a sword pointed at her, and another in front of Thalia. Both girls watched helplessly as a Roman demigod roughly grabbed Annabeth by her hair, dragging her by the roots. They would have moved, but they knew that once they did, their heads would instantly be cut off. They watched Annabeth scream and kick all the way, but it was not long before the Romans and Annabeth disappeared behind the bars.

Both girls were quiet, holding their breaths.

On the other side, Annabeth gave a blood-curling scream.

Once again, the Romans were trying to get information from them. When they took Clarisse, they had beated her and they had tied her to the edge of a table, nailing her hands to it with a hammer, in which she still had the deep holes. When they took Thalia, they had hung her upside down and sliced her flesh with every knife imaginable. Now they wondered what they where they going to do with Annabeth.

As Annabeth gave another scream, Clarisse held her head in her hands. "Face it, they're not coming for us."

Thalia closed her eyes. "Don't say that," she murmured, trying to block out the screams.

"It's already December, Thalia," Clarisse snapped harshly. "It's been _six _months, damn it! If they cared, they would have come a hell of a long time ago! They're already worried about the war! They don't care about us!"

"Maybe they don't know where we are," Thalia countered. "Maybe they're still looking."

"Yeah, right. Silena's probably dead too."

"Clarisse. _Stop_."

The bitter daughter of Ares crossed her arms. "You know she's dead too," she accused darkly. "They might have killed her a long time ago, and these assholes might be playing us. I know you know. Silena's gone."

Thalia refused to believe any of it. "She's not dead, okay? And they _are_ going to come for us."

"Don't waste your breath," Clarisse snorted.

The blue-eyed girl turned away, her arms wrapped around her knees as she buried her head in her arms. She could still hear Annabeth's pain-filled screams, but they were distant now. For now, Thalia was escaping into her mind, which really wasn't any saner than this prison was. She figured that out a long time ago. Nowhere was safe anymore. All they needed to do is wait.

The only concern Thalia had was that she would lose herself completely.


	2. Saving: Part I

**A/N:** Uh...so, I lied. There isn't going to be only three chapters to this like I had originally planned. There's still going to be three parts, but the next chapter would be like 'Saving: Part II' and then the last chapter would follow that. So I guess there would be a total of four chapters. Depends.

Just so there's no confusion, the setting revolves around a second war (not the first one) between the Romans and the Greeks. It's just a plot line I made up because I wanted a war, and this event is not in the PJO series, or _The Lost Hero_, or any other of Rick Riordan's stories.

Because there was a war, Annabeth, Thalia, Clarisse, and Silena offered to be spies. They spied at the Roman Camp Half-Blood, but they were found out and taken to an prison camp. The Romans didn't throw Silena in the prison cell with the rest of the girls, because they wanted to hold Silena as hostage, so that the other girls wouldn't want to try anything risky. Annabeth, Thalia, and Clarisse also work various jobs at the prison camp, just like slaves. Sorry, I didn't know my chapter had been confusing as to how the girls got captured in the first place. XD

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><p><strong>Saving: Part I<br>**

The air was thick with smoke and blood.

It was everywhere. He realized that it would be inescapable in war, and he was foolish to even think so. Everywhere Percy turned, swords, spears, and arrows tore ruthlessly into living human flesh. Dead bodies loitered the ground, and he was sure that he had stepped on them in attempts to avoid getting killed himself. He easily swung Riptide across an unnamed Roman demigod's neck, completely severing the head from the body.

He turned his head away, only to get a slight fraction of the warm blood that sprayed out, and snapped his sword back up, blocking an incoming attack.

The Roman Camp Half-blood was torn to shatters; a once beautiful camp that had hidden a much more harsh reality was burning at the seams. Percy had never fought such opponents before in his life. He had never gone to measures as to kill with much so damage before now. The war with the Titans last year was nothing compared to this insanity. Lupa and her demigods were all savages. They killed without thinking and their intentions were only dark and malignant.

Percy felt a large hand squeeze at his shoulder tightly, and at the corner of his eyes, he saw it was another enemy. Turning around with agile, he quickly wielded his sword and struck it right through the person's neck. He watched with careless scrutiny of the red blood that filtered out from the boy's neck and mouth, the sword still wedged in his esophagus, blocking any airway passages. His sword freed itself from its hold, his opponent going down, dead, as Percy lunged in near violence at his next opponent.

Arching his hand, he whirled and slammed the hilt of his sword roughly into the face of another Roman demigod, giving no glance back as the body stumbled to the ground and was eventually slain by Will Solace. Another noise alerted Percy and in minor defense, he swung his fist at his attacker, his hard knuckles landing right on his opponent's jaws. The crunching of the bones caused some uneasiness in Percy, before he kicked at the Roman's knees, sending him onto his back. He then plunged Riptide though his opponent's chest, gripping the sword hardly as he brought it through thick armor and chain mail, releasing a short breath when the tip of his sword encountered the broken spine.

The Roman struggled violently against the hold, howling with pain to feel cold steel in his body. His ceaseless wiggling only prompted Percy to dig the sword in deeper, sure enough that it touched the ground below. The Roman blew his last breath, freezing on the spot, his body turning cold. He pulled his sword out swiftly, gleaming obscenely not only with the blood of his recent victim, but with the blood of the many others Percy had slain that day.

There was a loud cry to his left, and a slight figure hurled onto the ground, draping over the body that Percy had just killed seconds ago. The figure took off the helmet, revealing long, brown-colored hair in the lightest shade, and a slim, oval-shaped face. The female Roman demigod had tears streaming down her eyes, sobbing over her fallen friend, or lover, or whatever he was to this girl.

Percy's instincts told him to kill this one too, before she did first. The girl cried, no indication that she knew that Percy was watching her. In desperation, she stood up shakily, gripping her spear, and turned to Percy, attacking him with a wild scream.

Instantly, Percy brought his sword up, the sound making him sure that the sharp tip had found its mark. He heard her drop her spear in surprise. His blade was embedded deep in her abdomen and had gone through her back, sparkling crimson against the light of the early dawn. Resigned shock was written on the girl's face, and it would stay that after she died in that singular minute.

Instead of letting her fall like he did to the rest of his opponents, Percy took out his sword and caught the girl by her arms before she dropped. Gently, he lowered her down, laying her out until she was resting right beside her friend— he later supposed the boy had been the girl's lover. With his fingers, Percy closed both of their eyes. In the midst of this chaos, the boy and the girl looked as though they were sleeping peacefully, despite their bodies being drenched in dirt and blood and other human waste.

It seemed to go on forever, becoming a sick, inhuman routine. He would strike, and then there would be blood. Strike, blood. Strike. Blood. Strike. Blood. Strike. Blood. It was a never ending cycle, and he was sure it would go on forever.

Most cabins that belonged to the Roman camp were hastily burning, the flags of the respective gods catching on fire as well, blowing away with the wind. The numbers were starting to dwindle, and some of the Romans were already surrendering, the cause of war taking such a tremendous toll on their young lives. After months of fighting, the Romans surrendered. This battle, which had started in the afternoon of the previous day, was the last battle of the war, ending at dawn of the next day.

For now, the Romans who surrendered were taken in as prisoners. Percy and the rest of the Head Counselors would have to decide what to do with them later on. Percy took the time to lean on his sword idly, watching the rest of his surroundings.

A few meters away, Grover and Juniper were reunited with each other, after sensing safe that the battle was over. In all naturally, both were genuinely happy to see the other again. Of course, Juniper had yelled his name out loud and jumped on him, bringing him to the ground in pure joy. Grover and Juniper were pretty much the last people you'd see in out on a battlefield, but they had still fought for what they believed in.

The image of the couple hardened Percy. Where was _his_ girl?

Oh, right, he remembered. She was at some prison camp that he still couldn't fucking find. Percy had been looking for Thalia—his girlfriend—the moment she had been captured for espionage. He had objected the idea of her being a spy in the first place. He had gone through all the maps he had stolen from the Romans, every file—_anything_ that could give him at least a clue on where they were hiding her and the other girls.

And still, nothing.

Near the trees at the edge of the woods, a dark figure was heading that way. And no one was paying attention to the figure either. The figure was completely conspicuous, all dark-hooded an all. But beyond that, Percy managed to see something glinting in the light. It was white, having an almost silvery effect. The white hair was unmistakable and Percy knew exactly who that was trying to escape.

Percy's blood boiled at the thought of the person, and all he saw was red. The next moment, he was running straight for the figure, hurling himself fully at it until both their bodies collided. He was taller, giving him an advantage, and he used his weight to slam the figure against one of the thick trees. He wretched the dark hood back, pulling the figure's face up so that Percy could see the face, and his hand constricted against the pale neck, squeezing so tightly, the figure's breathing continued in strangled gasps.

"Lupa," he gritted though his tightly clenched teeth.

"P-Perseus…" she whispered, coughing. Her face was starting to turn purple. Percy gave some pity on her and loosened his hold on her, but Riptide was firmly placed under her neck.

He raised an eyebrow. "Going somewhere?"

"Come to boast have you?" Lupa narrowed her eyes, and even though her side had just lost the war, she was still the same haughty woman as ever. "In case you haven't noticed, you've won, son of Poseidon. Does that make you happy?"

Percy's answer was an angry swipe across her chin, causing her to wince in pain. His sword created a thin, deep line that ran across the bottom of her chin to the hollow of her left cheek. Lupa sneered at him then, but her former confidence had lowered down a notch, and Percy hadn't missed that fact.

"You think I enjoy this?" Percy incredulously responded, his voice dangerously low. "You think I like watching the ones I care about die? You think I like watching everyone I love get taken away from me?" his grip on her neck hardened, and Lupa instinctively shrunk back against the bark of the tree.

A feral grin marred his handsome face. "You sadistic _bitch_," he snarled, his hand reaching up to the deep roots of her long, silver hair and yanking it up. Satisfaction welled inside him when Lupa flinched. _"Where is she?"_

Defiance overtook Lupa. "I don't know what you are talking about."

Percy shook his head, smiling to himself. Fine. If that's how it was going to be…

He let Riptide skim the other woman's arm, the cold blade unwilling giving shivers to Lupa. If she felt anything, she didn't show it. She was the head of the Romans, and she was strong. Lupa's cold eyes stared back, daring the boy.

In one quick motion, quicker than anything Lupa's ever seen before, Percy had brought the tip of his sword into Lupa's skin, digging into her outer exterior. She bit her lip from crying out as he dragged the blade down, stalling the anguished moments, before peeling off a large chunk of her flesh. Her arm began to burn, and she willed herself to look at the damage. Where her skin had been perfectly intact, there was an abundant, bloody hole. Percy made it so that her white bone appeared in plain view from the jagged and ripped body tissue.

The side of the blade was smacked vehemently against her cheek, leaving quite a mark, and forcing her to stare right into his seawater eyes. The hue of his eyes was so beautiful, so captivating, but Lupa could also see the murderous, lethal intent hidden within his dark pupils.

"Thalia. Annabeth. Clarisse. Silena," he enunciated every name slowly, as if talking to a little child. "Where are they?"

"Oh, them." Lupa had the nerve to laugh, given the state she was in. Percy tensed, digging the tip deeper against her neck, puncturing it lightly, droplets of blood spilling out. "Don't waste your time, dear Perseus."

"Why?"

"It's been a while since they've first arrived there, hasn't it?" Lupa asked. "Too long if you ask me. Don't you realize that they're dead now?"

Lupa actually cried out this time, unprepared when Percy brought his sword down upon her other hand, his blade crashing atop the crease of her elbow. He put so much force that he amputated her lower arm. Lupa suffocated in her agonized gasps, her widened eyes staring at the ground, where her severed arm was laying about bloodily, and she turned her head to see her arm, which was now a stump, the liquid bleeding excessively, painting bright crimson on the grounds of the earth.

She glared at him, baring her teeth. "_You_—"

"Oops," Percy casually responded, waving his sword to flick off the new blood that coated the blade. Unmindful of her, he kicked away her arm, the both of them watching as it rolled as a useless item.

Lupa seethed, but the pain was overwhelming. She looked back up at him, her eyes dark. "You're a hypocrite, Perseus."

"Really?" Percy was unaffected by her words.

"You're disgusted by us Romans," she continued, her voice informally slow. "You hate the way we fight, and you hate the way we live. But _you_ are just like us." Percy opened his mouth to speak but she continued. "You're a brutal savage, just like us. Any other Greek soldier would have caught me and thrown me in jail like the rest of army. But _you_," her eyes sparkled with disturbing knowledge, "take matters into your own hands."

A red spark flitted in Percy's eyes. "I'm not like you."

"Deny all you can," she teased him. "Pity you're a Greek. You would have made a brilliant Rom—"

Lupa never finished her sentence, for Percy had already cut her off, his sword plunged deep in her chest, right where her beating heart lay. She paled, feeling the blood rise up her throat until she was choking on it, some of the thick wetness trickling from the corners of her mouth. She still moved, and Percy dug the sword in deeper, hitting the end of the blade against the other side, stapling her against the bark of the tree. He made a large enough hole so that if Percy looked, he could roughly see the outline of his blade hitting past her organs, and at her lifeless heart.

Her listless head was bowed, hanging limply off her shoulder. Blood ran down her mouth and her nose, and also her arm and her newly acquired stump. With his sword holding her in place, her dead weight sagged against it, the sharp blade peeling off some more of her skin away as well.

"I'm not a Roman," he told her conversationally, but she was already dead. Yes, he had done some ruthless things in this war, but it was only because Lupa deserved it all.

"Hey," Percy whistled and called at a boy not too far away. He was twelve, too young to be in the war, but he was one of the volunteers who helped cleaned up. When the boy came, he nodded over at Lupa. "Make sure she's dead. When you're done, clean my sword. Can you do that?"

The boy nodded, determined. Percy grinned, clapping the boy on his shoulder. "Thanks."

When Percy was twelve, he was attacked by Mrs. Dodds, who actually turned out to be a Fury. Because of that incident, Percy had found out that not only was he a demigod, but that he was the son of one of the Big Three. From then on, his life had never been normal again.

He thought that maybe after the second Titan war, he might just get some of the peace that he had wanted since he had been claimed as Poseidon's son. This twelve year old boy was nothing like Percy had been. He was still innocent, not yet knowing the ugly horrors of war and how it corrupted people. This boy was completely pure by far, something that Percy envied him for. After this bloody massacre of a war, Percy was far from being pure.

That night, the Greek demigods hosted one of their largest celebrations to date. The Roman camp was nothing but charred debris now, but they had managed to make a large bonfire with food, loud music, and alcohol.

The Roman prisoners were all held on the ship, always having more than three dozen pairs of eyes on them. Chiron was in charge of watching over them, since he was the only Greek who didn't want to kill a Roman in sight. The war may have been over, but they still carried a grudge. The Greeks weren't as vulgar as the Romans were, and they agreed to give food to their prisoners.

Percy remembered the first time he drank ale. It had been a couple years ago, when he was fourteen. Three sips of it had him emptying the contents of his stomach into a toilet bowl. He had a stronger alcohol tolerance now, once that was heavily needed during the stresses of war that was brought on him. He leaned against a broken pillar that had belonged to one of the cabins, watching the Greeks dance around jovially. He smiled at Grover's happy little dance, a humorous take to it, before lifting to cup to his lips again.

"How come you're the only one not celebrating?"

Percy grinned, knowing who it was without turning around. "Rachel."

The Oracle of Delphi waltzed over to stand on Percy's side, watching the events unfold. "You're not dancing."

"I think I'll pass on that," he replied good-naturedly. He shifted, his eyes averted. "Besides, you know I only dance with her. No one else."

"Even if she told you to dance with someone else, and that she claimed that she was perfectly okay with it?" Rachel inquired. "Would you do it?"

"Not even then."

A wide grin spread on Rachel's face. "You really love her, don't you?"

"I do," he murmured quietly. The fact that Thalia wasn't here, celebrating beside him lessened his spirit, bringing even more pain to strike at his heart. It wasn't fair.

They curiously watched Travis Stoll twirl an ecstatic Katie Gardner in his arms. Katie laughed then, leaning in to kiss Travis, and at that moment, Percy looked away. He looked away to give them some sort of privacy...and for other reasons that didn't need to be explained. Rachel noticed this, and she softened her gaze, her hand reaching to touch his one of his shoulders.

She squeezed it. "Do you want to find her?"

Percy blinked. "W-What?"

Rachel rolled her eyes. Sometimes, Percy really did have seaweed brain. "Do you want to find her?" she repeated. "Do you want Thalia back? How about Annabeth, Clarisse, or Silena?"

"Now?"

"Yes, now." A thrill of excitement rushed into her and thrummed inside her system. "Our group will have to be small, and we can't take a whole lot of people. We just need enough to fight the guards and liberate the prisoners."

Percy dropped his cup of ale. "You know where they are?"

"I just found out this morning," Rachel nodded. "I had a vision and it showed me where they were. They're located at a prison camp in Colorado, near Amherst."


	3. Saving: Part II

**A/N: **So, long time no post, huh? Bet you guys hear that a lot...

Sorry I haven't updated in a while. I've been busy with my other story, and studying for tests and all that. I'm so done with school. I wish it was summer already. But, at least this chapter was longer than the other two. I think the next chapter will be the last. I think.

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><p><strong>Saving: Part II<strong>

Clarisse kept thinking about what had happened last night. Annabeth had come back from her torture exactly an hour later from when she was taken, her skin burned to a crisp, her eyes widened with evident pain. What the fuck did they _do_—put her in an oven?

It was clear that Annabeth was in no way shape of form to do the work today. The moment she entered the cell, she had dropped down, blackness already consuming her. She and Thalia tried the best they could, rummaging through their kit to try to get rid of the horrendous burn marks on the blonde's skin, but no avail. When the guards came to take them to their work, they pleaded with them, bargaining that they would work triple the amount if they let Annabeth sleep for the day.

At least they had some pity. They left Annabeth in the cell, and upheld the promise the other two girls gave them.

The daughter of Ares looked up from building her weapons, off to the other side of the mines where Thalia was. The other girl was chipping away at rocks, being successful if she should find some sparkling gem hidden beneath the stone's crust. Her hands were already bleeding, but what else was new?

"You," a voice commanded from behind her. Clarisse rolled her eyes at the never-ending charade as she turned involuntarily turned around and faced a Roman guard. "Stand up."

Clarisse bit down upon her lip from talking back, telling him off with one of her own crude retorts. Her head whipped around to the other side of the mines, where Thalia was staring at her and the guard. No one else looked, considering they were too busy caught up in their own desperation to stay alive. That meant to focus on the tedious work ahead, no matter how large or small of a commotion one of the prisoners was making.

The guard—a nineteen year old guy with an ugly scar running down the whole left side of his face—grabbed Clarisse's right arm roughly. Before she could pull back and send the guy reeling back with her fist, he had quickly brought out something thin and injected that something into her skin. Clarisse struggled, and while she fought the haziness evading her, all she could see was the sparkling needle sticking out of her forearm. There had been a sharp pinch and then…nothing.

All of the sudden, everything in her view was spinning. Fuzzy dots of different colors outlined the edges of her eyes as she tried to squint to decipher the images. Something was wrong. She can't feel anything. Clarisse doesn't feel, neither does she notice the fact that two other guards flank by her side, holding her upright by her stiff arms. The guards were there so quickly, as though they _expected_ this to happen.

Like the whole thing was planned.

"Get the fuck off her!" The unpredicted outburst had Clarisse turning her head a fraction. At least she could still hear—the only sense of the five that she still had.

A handful of prisoners had to hold an acrimonious Thalia back from jumping the guards that were attempting to drag Clarisse away from the mines. Even in her daze, Clarisse couldn't help but feel stricken for the girl. _Oh, Thalia, do you revolt against everything?_

Another guard came in the scene, thrusting his hand into the air and twisting it around Thalia's long, ebony hair until he was pulling her back by the tendrils. He winded her hair, rolling it in his hand until it became wildly tangled. Thalia still fought him, but the thought of Silena crept to her. The image of Aphrodite's daughter stilled her, but she did not let go of her gaze on Clarisse.

With Thalia being held in place, Clarisse was taken away.

They didn't have to travel far. A stone wall of the building would do.

The guards had her pinned against the wall, each one of them holding her arms outstretched. She was too weak to pry her arms from them, and then she realized what a disgrace she was. No son or daughter of Ares was _ever_ weak.

The Roman with the ugly scar smirked widely, making his scar stretch out in an even more horrendous position than it was already in. "Clarisse, daughter of Mars," he mocked harshly. His fingers ran through her thick hair, scraping hardly along her scalp. "You have no idea how long I've waited to shut that loud mouth of yours."

Clarisse may have been injected so that she wouldn't fight back, but she could still feel the pain. It didn't take her long to realize how deep in shit she was. Her dazed eyes mustered up as much ferocity as she could into glaring at the scarred guard, but her eyes widened and faltered the moment he unzipped his pants.

He chuckled lowly, the sound even bringing certain chills to Clarisse. And not the good kind. "What, nothing to say? That's a first."

At that moment, she fought as hard as she could. She fought so ardently to the point that it even hurt to fight back. Her attempts were feeble and wasted. It proved no point anyway, considering the guards on each side easily slammed her arms against the stone wall with their solid bodies. She was trapped like a deer caught in headlights. She was the deer that just stood and watched the approaching car that was close to hitting her, and she was too stupid to move out of the way.

The nineteen year old let his hands roam all over her body. His burglarizing hands starting at her face, where they cradled her face tenderly, almost patronizingly to her as his dark eyes penetrated her viciously. Those hands trailed down to her chest, where her rapid heart was. Being the sick-minded pervert he was, his hand balanced each breast until he abruptly squeezed them severely, causing Clarisse to let out a small gasp. She wished it didn't hurt too much, but her pride was telling her that she could take this. She would not give in.

The Roman's invading hands crawled down to her flat stomach, hardened with muscles. His fingers teased her by letting the digits skim up and down her hips. Obviously, he enjoyed this much more than she did. The nineteen year old gave her another dark look—one filled with lust and obscenity while his hands slowly pulled down at the gray, poor of an excuse of pants that all prisoners were supposed to wear.

Clarisse felt violated the way the guard's eyes gazed vulgarly at her bare legs. His eyes flickered back to her. "Nice legs, daughter of Mars. It's surprising to find that there is a satisfying body hiding beneath all this hideous clothing."

"You Romans were the ones who decided for us prisoners to wear this so-called hideous clothing."

The guard's eyes flashed to black, and Clarisse knew that she had gone too far. She pushed her luck, despite the vulnerable position she was in. She shouldn't have said anything. She had just put herself in a worst situation than she already was.

Next thing she knew, her panties joined the gray pants that were pooled around her ankles. Her bottom half was completely bare, and she did all she could to protect herself. She forced her legs to move, maybe to aim a kick at the guard, but the injection had already affected her body. She could feel, but she couldn't move.

His erection was inside her, forcing a way in through her tight, shallow hole. It pained her, hurting more than knives splicing in because that hole really hasn't been touched before. She had been a virgin, and this Roman demigod was taking that away from her. Excruciating tears cornered at her eyes, but she blinked at them furiously, not letting them fall. She will not cry. She will not cry, she will _not_—

Aching thrusts were acted upon her, and each messy and awful thrust against her body had her legs shaking at the impact. Her body was unwilling arching against the Roman, and the guy only smirked at this. What Clarisse thought was force, he took it as encouragement. His arm snaked around to her back, where his hand grabbed at her bottom, bringing her even closer than they already were, causing his erection to dig in deeper and deeper into her compact opening. The thrusts were gaining a certain momentum, going in harder and harder with each impending force. He wasn't even finished yet when he suddenly pulled away, leaving her clamping down her lip to keep from crying out as she flew forward in exhaustion.

Was it over?

Clarisse couldn't hold in her scream this time when the Roman guard plunged into her again.

* * *

><p>An emotional thunderstorm raged within her blue eyes.<p>

With precision, Thalia had managed to get away from the guard after untangling her hair from his hands. She ran out of the mines, a number of guards sure on her tail, as she tried to run after Clarisse. She lost the guards a while back, considering she was all too lithe and fast for them to keep up.

Thalia would have considered it a victory, outrunning the buffoons of those Roman demigods, but her temporary achievement had hit an all time low when she ventured into an abandoned closet in one of the empty corridors. It was the smell the piqued her endless curiosity. The odor struck her nose so violently, it made her cringe visibly, and had her almost reeling back. Her nose wrinkled in disgust as she stepped forward. Normal people would have stepped away from the empty corridor with the smelly closet, but she reckoned she wasn't really normal.

She plugged her nose, and she had opened it.

She wished she hadn't.

The smell had come from this decomposing body, or what was left of it. Decaying skin of the body looked burned, spliced, and rotted. Some of the dead flesh looked truly back in some places, and there were spots of sickly green and yellow scattered along the skin. She could tell this had been the body of a girl, considering the long, dried blonde hair that was sprung and torn about. The stench was all too much, and Thalia was about to shut the closet back closed to relieve her nose of it, but something had stopped her.

Familiar brown eyes stared deadly up at the ceiling. She knew those brown eyes anywhere. Thalia froze upon the body, willing her eyes to go to the only proof that would tell Thalia whether this was her or not. Her eyes immediately went to the body's wrist, where a broken, yet shining, silver bracelet hung around the thin wrist. It was the same silver bracelet that Charles Beckendorf had given to his long-time girlfriend before he died in the last Titan war.

This deteriorating waste of a body was Silena Beauregard.

She looked to be four months dead.

Which had meant that the Roman demigods had used her, Clarisse, and Annabeth to their advantage. They used them, with Silena as blackmail, but Silena had been dead a long time ago.

Electricity cackled around her, her bright blue eyes emancipating with light as bright as Zeus' lightning bolt. The Romans couldn't hold anything against her anymore. She could kill them if she wanted to. Silena was already dead, so why should it matter to her? In her opinion, they were idiotically stupid to think that she wouldn't find out.

Echoes of distant footsteps were heading her way. Thalia didn't move, her gaze so fixated on Silena that nothing else really mattered. The guards were coming closer. _Fine, let them come._

In a matter of seconds, the Romans were there. They paused at the scene, their eyes darting back and forth from Thalia's solidified stance to that Aphrodite girl's corroded body. The female demigod was the quickest to react, whipping out her curved knife before the other two males.

"Kill her," Thalia heard the girl whisper distinctively. "She's found out. There's no use in keeping her."

Those two males nodded, and they too, took out their respective weapons. The boys were the first to run to her, their arms poised, and ready to strike. Apparently, they thought that two on one would work. After all, what the males saw in front of them was a skinny, sick-looking girl their age, who worked in the mines all day, scraping pointed rocks for jewels.

The first male came at her, swinging his long sword in an arch. Before his blade could decapitate her, her hand reached out and caught a hold of the Roman male's wrist, snapping the hand down so forcefully, the boy was forced to let go of his weapon. Still holding his wrist, she snapped it the other way, causing the bone to crack, and the boy to let out a strangled gasp. The second male, that was coming in to help, swung his sword down. In response, Thalia moved her hand that was holding the first male's hand, using the boy's entire arm as a shield.

The second Roman boy's sword sliced at the first boy's hand, which had originally been intended for Thalia, resulting in a half-way cut that almost amputated his arm. The second boy reeled back in shock that his sword struck his mate and the other boy had cried out in pain, and Thalia used that to her advantage by pushing the injured boy to the other boy, knocking them both to the ground. She bent and quickly picked up the long blade and while the two boys struggled to get up, she narrowed her eyes and drove her sword deeply through both of the males' chests, so that the two bodies were stapled together by her sword.

She pulled the sword out, observing the blood that coated the blade. Considering the two dead boys she just killed, the blood was twice the amount of one strike. The copper smell drifted past her nose, causing them to flare upon reaction.

The Roman girl was running up at her now. At least this one put up a good fight. Her knife clashed with her blade and the sound spliced the quiet air. The way the Romans fight—they were supposed to be brutal. Thalia's witnessed their fighting before. But they didn't know that she learned too. Each blow this girl threw was hard, but every blow Thalia returned was even harder.

Two minutes in, Thalia's sword made it past the girl's defense. The tip of Thalia's blade swung at the girl's collarbone, cutting agonizingly until she saw the Roman girl's actual white bone sticking out of the blood. The girl coughed out blood, but Thalia took the chance and struck again at the girl stomach, killing her when she took her sword out. The girl fell spasmodically, but Thalia didn't notice.

She was already running the other way. It didn't take her much time to find where Clarisse was. Her image of Clarisse shocked her as much as Silena's body had.

Two Roman males lay about casually, including the scarred one that had injected Clarisse. He and the other one were barking in laughter with their pants unzipped as they watched their third comrade take Clarisse. Her friend was slumped against the wall, barely holding herself up. The third male had to grip her waist hardly to keep her from falling. As he forced herself upon her, Thalia could very well see the puddle of blood that drenched her gray pants and her panties, and started a small, puddle between her trembling legs.

The third male then finished his business as he removed himself and settled on the ground like his friends. Before Clarisse could even fall forward, the scarred demigod flew forward again, catching Clarisse in her arms, fresh and ready for another round. It was amazing how long she lasted.

Clarisse eyes were glazed into space, and Thalia had tried to meet them. Those eyes blinked slowly, finally noticing the blue-eyed girl in the background. Clarisse was looking, but she wasn't _seeing_.

Throughout their imprisonment, Annabeth had depended on Thalia, and Thalia had depended on Clarisse. To see Clarisse like this, the girl who had been Thalia's rock through this entire debacle…there were no words.

The constant, blaring red was in Thalia's eyes as the strode forward nimbly, and cut across the first male, slashing him left and right until he was a bloody disarrangement of his former self. Her sword went up and slashed at his head, rearranging his dead face. The other one that was lying on the ground shot up, his fingers fumbling to zip his pants back up but Thalia's sword swung across, catching him by the neck. His scream clogged up in this throat as his head threw off, his blood spitting out and drizzling the front of Thalia's shirt like gentle rain.

Thalia twitched upon seeing the scarred demigod who started this mess—this _rape_. The one who started it all by injecting whatever it was into Clarisse. He hadn't bothered pulling up his pants, but he was armed. Their blades met midway, but he proved no match for her. He was disarmed in a blink of an eye. Thalia clenched her teeth in anger as her sword slashed across his abdomen, red liquid once again spilling out. He fell backwards, and she let him. Clarisse, who was let go a moment ago, finally had the chance to fall as her knees gave out on her.

The tip of the sword skimmed the scarred one's body, teasing him with his sharpness as he choked. Digging the point of her sword on his left shoulder, she dragged it down to his right hip, immune to his pleas and cries. She did it again, starting from his right shoulder to his left hip. There was a large 'X' on his torso, along with the first, long cut that was sported across his waist. He was still living, since the cuts weren't deep enough to kill. She cut lacerations along his arms, thighs, legs, taking in satisfaction as she heard him scream. She didn't kill him just yet because she wanted him to feel absolutely everything. And then she let her sword plunge deeper, moving up and down like a saw. She cut him again and again.

And again and again and again…

But when she looked back, the scarred demigod was already dead. Had he died a while ago?

Oh, well.

"Thalia…?"

The blue-eyed girl whirled around, sword pointing straight. Her arm relaxed and her grip slackened when she realized it was just a wide-eyed Annabeth gaping back at her. The blonde girl's jaw opened in surprise.

"Did—did you do all this?" she asked, gasping at all the blood and the gore.

Thalia's shoulder's slumped, but she did not feel regret. "Yeah."

"But, Silena—"

"Silena's dead."

Of course, that caused another gasp to come from Annabeth. This time, tears were threatening to fall. Her grey eyes searched Thalia's electric blue ones, hoping to find some deception in them. To her horror, Thalia was telling the truth.

Thalia looked away, avoiding the other girl's gaze. "How did you get out? I thought you were resting."

"One of the Romans came to check on me…" Annabeth swallowed dryly, keeping her tears back. "I told them I could go work again, and they let me…and then I was on my way to the mines when I found you and—" Annabeth's explanation died in her throat as she noticed Clarisse.

Clarisse's head tipped back against the wall, body sagging, her bottom half spread wide and naked. Her pubic cavity was thoroughly abused, the blood refusing to cease as it willingly flowed out of her system.

Annabeth rushed forward, holding Clarisse against herself. She was a smart girl—after all, she was Athena's daughter, so she quickly interpreted the situation easily. What pained her were how many times these three brutal Romans raped Clarisse. They could have gone all day if Thalia hadn't made it in time.

"Take care of her, alright?" Thalia asked, her gaze finally softening as she looked at her two friends. "There's got to be at least one infirmary in this place."

The blonde didn't argue against Thalia. She nodded, holding Clarisse tenderly. "Where are you going?"

Thalia shook her head. "That doesn't matter. Your priority right now is Clarisse. Don't worry about anything else."

With that said, Thalia was running off again, before Annabeth could even object.

Thalia sprinted towards the mines as though a Minotaur was chasing after her. She hadn't been able to run this fast in a while, and the feeling exhilarated her. But her intentions of wanting vengeance were beyond this feeling of freedom.

She was going to show all the prisoners how to fight back. Since most of them—Greek and Roman—worked in the mines or near them, this would be a perfect place for an example.

Nearly all the working prisoners looked up the moment she came storming in, making sure her footsteps were loud enough to gain the attention. Two guards noticed the disruption and weaved their way through the crowd of prisoners, making Thalia their one target. Thalia made this quick and easy, slicing clean cuts across these Romans, unlike her former opponents who had the unfortunate luck of catching most of her budding anger beforehand. Like she predicted, the prisoners watched in silence, drinking the scene in with shock.

Now she hoped that they would join her rebellion, rather than just stand there.

A brunette girl cautious stepped forward. Thalia instantly recognized her as Miranda Gardiner of the Demeter cabin. She, along with a few other Greeks, had been caught during one of the battles of the war. "Thalia?"

"You all realize that you can fight back, can't you?" Thalia shot back firmly. "The Romans only intimidate us because they think we've already lost because we're prisoners. Just look around," her hand gestured around the mines, "there are weapons littering all over the place. We _can_ fight them back."

Albeit, it wasn't the best war speech, but it seemed like it was enough. Realization of the truth in Thalia's words began to filter the many prisoners' eyes. Their eyes looked at the weapons around—the very weapons that they helped make—with evident hunger in their malnourished irises.

"Hey!" yelled one of the guards that came in. He gripped the hilt of his sword threateningly. "Get back to work, all of—" he was abruptly cut off to find a dagger lodged in his throat.

The prisoners turned to find the brave culprit who dared. Turns out, the one who threw the dagger had been an eleven year old boy from the Hermes cabin.

And by that action, inspired by Thalia's words, chaos erupted all around.

The prisoners scrambled for a weapon, and once they had one in their possession, they all looked at Thalia for further instructions. Thalia merely smirked, pointing her sword towards the exit of the mines. As a newly refined army, the prisoners ran out and went to destroy every Roman guard they passed.

In less than twenty minutes, a large number of dead bodies loitered the ground—all of them having been Roman guards.

Thalia rummaged through one of the pockets belonging to a dead Roman girl. Her face lighted up when her hand brought out a set of matches. Perfect.

"Hey, Austin!" she shouted, causing a dark-haired boy from the Apollo cabin to turn around, his bow and arrow in two. He looked at Thalia inquiringly, his arrow readily notched. Thalia responded silently by nodding at his arrow and lifting the set of matches up for him to see.

He grinned knowingly. "Burn the whole place down?"

"You know it."

She threw the set of matches in time as her sword swung to block her opponent's strike. The Roman thrust again, but Thalia parried the throw with a loud clash. She bashed the butt of her hilt against the Roman's temple before bringing her sword down upon her opponent's shoulder, cutting the skin open to reveal a large and seeping wound that dripped down the entire arm. That had left the Roman wounded, but Thalia had none of that. She put him out of his agony by hacking his head out as swiftly as the motion of a guillotine.

She looked up in time to see that Austin and some of his fellow cabin mates sending their fire-tipped arrows all over the place, mindful of the allied prisoners. The fire hit the buildings, burning the grounds into ash and debris, and some of the arrows had intentionally hit the cowardly Roman guards that were on the roofs, hiding from the battle below. They fell with fire engulfing their bodies, thrashing until they hit the floor that would eventually lead them to their deaths.

The fires were quickly spreading, their embers rising with the colors of dried brown, red, and orange. As the heat of the fires increased, so did the prisoners' stamina. They were encouraged by the disaster around them. They too, were bloodthirsty for revenge, and they would not rest until every single Roman lay dead.

"Thalia! Thalia!" Max, son of Ares, came to her. "Reinforcements came!"

The girl tilted her head. "What are you talking about?"

"We've got help! Percy brought his army here with him."

Thalia's head snapped at the name of her boyfriend. He was here? _Percy_ was here?

At the corner of her eyes, she caught the head of a black-haired boy, his hair almost as black as her own. He was tall and lean with lithe muscles, carrying a sword made of Celestial Bronze. Even at the edge of her eyes, she could see that his eyes, bright with anger, had the hue of the ocean.

Before she let this boy out of her sight, Thalia automatically moved forward as though she was possessed. She dodged the opponents that came at her, sometimes swinging her sword instinctively to strike at them or to maim them and add more red decorum to her already-messed up prisoner clothing. Hell, her entire body was drenched in blood. She blinked slowly, now behind the black-haired, seawater-gazed boy. She moved without thinking, always on impulse, reaching out and touched his elbow.

The boy swung his sword back quickly, but Thalia's reflexes matched his swiftness. She moved just in time for the tip of the blade to swipe a small cut across her cheek. She ignored the slight pain on her face and looked into the boy's eyes.

It was him.

Percy had stared for a moment, almost disbelieving what he saw. There had been a couple of times where he would dream that Thalia would be walking around camp, teasing him until he was forced to chase her. And once he did chase her, she would be nowhere to be found. It would then be all just a fruitless dream.

"T-Thalia?" he stuttered.

The daughter of Zeus nodded, not believing it herself. Months and months apart from each other and now that they were finally here, each other again—

Her thoughts were erased the moment he pulled at her roughly, their bodies crushing and molding together, despite the adamantine impact they both created. His lips collided with hers, needing and tasting what had been missing all those long months. Percy could taste her blood, since his teeth had scraped against her bottom lip carelessly, but neither of them really cared. He held her with no intention of letting her go, trying to prove to himself that she was actually there holding him.

The hard kiss dwindled down slowly, as he relaxed on his vice-like grip on her. He kissed her again, this time more softly, but not at all losing the intensity of the first one. He used his tongue to lick at the wound he caused on her lip, licking away most of the blood.

When they pulled away, Percy was worried to see the mad, wild look that was in her eyes. He shuddered to think what these Romans had done to her all these six months.

"I never stopped looking for you," he told her quickly, his voice and quiet in her ear. "I tried everything, Thals. I looked at the maps, I followed any of the traces, I even _killed_ to get any type of information—"

"I know," she stopped him, reassuring to him that she understood. She pressed her nose against his neck, smiling when she caught a whiff of the ocean.

Percy breathed slowly, dropping a kiss against her neck, and dropping another on her shoulder. However, as he pressed another kiss to her shoulder, his eyes looked up and dangerously hardened. A Roman had been behind her, ready to stab Thalia in the back because she was preoccupied with him.

With a roar that didn't sound at all human, Percy quickly shoved Thalia behind his back, protecting her in any way that he could. Clutching Riptide, he violently bashed at the Roman, disarming his opponent and causing the weapon to fly a few meters away. His sword thrust in through the Roman's torso, causing the boy to open his mouth. Right when the Roman howled, Percy snapped his sword up and pushed the entire blade into that mouth, the sharp blade crushing and demolishing the lips and the rows of teeth. He pushed harder, sword going down his throat until he pulled it out, the Roman dead a long time ago.

Percy didn't really feel anything after that, besides the slender hand that gripped his own.

There wasn't a fine line differentiating between the Romans and the Greeks anymore. They way they fought, their methods of killing and winning were entirely the same now. Blood had become a normal sight for any demigod.

They were all savages.


End file.
